While that is true, in general, women’s art is seen with some disdain regardless of what it is, how well it’s done, or in what cultural/societal conditions it’s made, I’ll save you the feminist rant. For now. You’re welcome.

Complaints about genre romance are generally phrased as “romance is trash,” not “I don’t like romance because I think it’s trash.” I’m told these two different phrasings make a significant difference in reaction to some people, but come on. We all know they’re exactly alike.³

While these complaints prick my soul a little, they’re valid. I’m not even going to get into the male wish-fulfillment fantasies of pulp novels and comic books: spycraft, cowboys, space captains, superheroes, anything sporting a Boris Vallejo cover, and sportsball,⁴ because a good half⁵ of what’s classified as⁶ romance is objectively trash.

Now, I’ve tried to write straight-up smut because that’s where the money is and rent’s gotta get paid. The two people who read it said I’d done it very well, had my usual depth, and was very distinctly my voice. It was, in fact, some of my best work, and there’s some measure of very smart, intellectual erotica out there. But it made me feel oogey, and if my own smut could make me oogey when I was 45 and as horny as a 17-year-old boy, it’s bad. So I tucked that away in my external hard drive, never to be seen again.⁷

I even tried to write a clean (no sex) reverse harem book, because that’s a popular subsubgenre (“clean” or “wholesome” is its own thing), but the concept made me feel oogey for an entirely different reason.⁸

De gustibus non est disputandum, sure, but objective truth can be applied to some of it:

• short
• minimal plot
• no characterization
• graphic, unusual sex is its raison d’être
• badly put together because speed is the priority
• many published in a quick timeframe
• may or may not cause problems akin to other addiction problems
• may or may not be used as a replacement for real-life sex

They don’t have to be art. They just have to make money. People who read a lot⁹ will devour their favorite genres and tropes, and go looking for more like it’s meth. Dinosaur erotica obviously must have a wide audience, but nobody’s ’fessing up to reading them, much less fangirling over them outside niche fora.

Then there’s Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey.

These are hotly debated, denigrated, and defended, but, I would argue, somewhere in the middle of trash and not-trash.

I don’t know what’s special about these books, what sparked such devotion to them. I always say people choose a book for its trope (to be addressed in a later post) first and summary second, but they re-read an author for his/her voice, so I have to presume that other than the trope, something about the way Stephenie Meyer and E.L. James strung the words together spoke to them.

Or maybe it was the sex. I don’t know.

Disclaimer: I have not read any of these books except the first Twilight book, which I thought was an entertaining popcorn read, but didn’t spur me to read the rest.

Not-trash:

• long, saga-like
• some characterization, with plausible motivations
• decent construction
• thought and care put into it, even if the author wasn’t terribly skilled at it

Trash:

• cipher heroine¹⁰
• plot is to serve the sex¹¹
• sex isn’t very well written (so I’ve heard)
• caused minor to severe real-world problems akin to other addiction problems

Beyond technical and societal issues, I can’t speak to its non/trashiness because see above de gustibus non est disputandum, or, in more recent parlance, “I know it when I see it.” Even this entire post could be classed as preference, simping, and apologetics, but whatever. I know what I like, and dinosaur erotica is not it.

Although I consider myself a romance author,¹² other people don’t.¹³ However, there are a lot of people find romance contemptuous, are loud about it, and it bothers me that I’ve lumped myself in with the stuff I don’t write, don’t like, and don’t respect.

Long ago, I started telling people I write soap operas, which got the point across (“Yeah, there’s probably sex in it, but it’s a long story with lots of drama.”¹⁴), but that stopped working as soon as I said it to a twenty-something valet when he asked what I do, and he said, “What’s a soap opera?” Eh, people don’t respect those, either.

What am I looking for here, though? What is the point of this post?

Hell if I know.

Then there are the ones on the sidebar to the right, some of which are romance. Under My Skin by Jenny Gilliam, which I liked enough that I only stopped reading when I had to tend to various obligations, like Tax Deductions 1 and 2. And congrats to her for its sale to Amira! (A little late on that congrats, Jenny. Mea culpa.)

Catch of the Day by Kristan Higgins, which made me bawl and laugh and cringe in vicarious embarrassment, which was only cute/sweet because it wasn’t happening to me. Also, her Just One of the Guys, which was good but not as heartwrenching as Catch of the Day. Her first effort, Fools Rush In (which I actually read in 2009, sorry!), I found at a thrift store for a quarter and damme if that wasn’t a bargain! All 3 books are written in first person, though Catch of the Day and Just One of the Guys are in present tense (I like!) and Fools Rush In was in past tense. (I crack myself up.) You must have a box of Kleenex for these books. I remember this author’s name. For me, that’s like saying her books are auto-buy and lo and behold! She’s got a new title, Too Good To Be True. Honestly, I think she’s more what people call “women’s fiction” because she seems to focus more on the heroine’s journey than the romance. Word of warning: Don’t glom this author.

Eva Gale’s short stories “Desperate Measures” and “Scorpion’s Orchid” (post-apoc/steampunk). Loved both, though not crazy about short story format (that’s my own failing); the short form worked better in “Scorpion’s Orchid.” And, oh, you must, must, must, must, MUST go catch Eva’s free reads. “The Seduction of Gabriel Stewart” was wonderful and part of what I want to read, as both a spiritual and sexual woman: a smooth meld of the erotic and the faithful.

Susan Elizabeth Phillips’s Natural Born Charmer. Of course I read it straight through, but SEP’s losing her grip on me, I think. Not sure why because she’s got a book on my keeper shelf and in this one, though the heroine was an artist, she wasn’t flighty and she was quick to catch on to what was going on around her, so I was good with that.

Patti Shenberger’s The Captain’s Wench. I’m a sucker for seamen (heh) stories, but this story suffered from some logical fallacies like the fact that the heroine just accepted the strange man in her house was a ghost and bantered with him as if he were an old friend. Like there’s really nothing strange about that situation at all. It was a short story/novella, so it could’ve been a word length requirement problem.

I read The Dragon Earl, which I really enjoyed. The first chapter on the author’s website got me enough that I remembered it when I saw it at Wal-Mart.

Forbidden Shores didn’t impress me. I never felt like any of the characters actually loved each other and that the HEA (happily ever after) was forced.

The following has spoilers. Highlight the blank spaces to read.

Last but not least, this: A Mermaid’s Kiss by Joey W. Hill. I don’t know what to say about this because I’m conflicted in so many directions, yet it’s stuck with me ever since I read it. I hesitate to do a review on it, but here I am 3 months later, still thinking about it. It’s supposed to be erotic. It’s not. The reasoning for the sex between the hero and heroine is flimsy at best, though I wasn’t any more put off by the more, ah, unusual aspects of it than I was by any of the other sex scenes, none of which were necessary to the story. The hero and heroine have sex with her in mermaid form and her in pixie form. I also didn’t like the fact that the heroine had so many configurations mermaid, pixie, human. The sex just … annoyed me. Why? Because I thought this was a terribly spiritual book with underpinnings of faith (some amalgam of Christianity and goddess mythos) and a keen insight on human behavior. In a lot of ways, its underlying theme reminded me of Dogma, although in a gut-wrenching way and not a satiric way. The sex got in the way of the character development (and worldbuilding) and pulled me out the story every single time. And it wasn’t even good sex.

It took me a while to write this post and 2008 was a busy year, but the ones I forgot must not have made an impact on me.

Please note the title and study the cover a bit. Does that say “romance novel” to you? Me, neither.

And yet, despite the absence of the word “Harlequin” anywhere on the cover, on the copyright page, on the “coming attractions” back matter, apparently, Romancelandia thought this was a romance. I don’t know why, unless Romancelandia simply has no history with pure erotica.

There is a difference between romantic erotica and pure erotica (aka could-be-porn-if-that’s-your-definition) and perhaps Ellora’s Cave has just trained Romancelandia to read “romance” or “romantic erotica” where they see “erotic novel” or “erotica.”

I don’t know how this could have been mistaken for a romance.

Moving along. Jessica, over at Racy Romance Reviews, reviewed this and while her review wasn’t necessarily favorable, it was academic (’cause she R 1) and in no way (I thought) insulting. She also admitted that she didn’t have much experience with whatever “pure” erotica really is.

I wanted to read this book, but balked at paying $11.30 for the ELECTRONIC book, so someone took pity on me and sent it to me, requesting that, if possible, I review it because that person was interested in my opinion (though heaven only knows WHY!).

My opinion is that I can’t finish this book.

Why?

The nastiness that went on concerning a liveblogging “review” incident between Dear Author and Smart Bitches (NOT linking). I didn’t read the transcript, so I am not speaking to whether the liveblogging was nasty or not, but the comments on the thread really, really disheartened me. It destroyed any enjoyment I might have gotten out of it and made me want to pick nits where there were no nits to pick.

I read 40% of the book before I simply had to put it down, so I feel very cheated and I’m going to address others’ complaints of the book that apply to what I read and comment on those, then I’ll pick the two very big nits I actually did have.

COMPLAINTS:

1.  Nobody could figure out the setting, but thought it might be somewhere in 17th-18th Century France.

2.  That the sexual situations were totally ridiculous.

3.  That Camille’s reasoning for escaping her abusive-cum-murderous husband RIGHT THEN was flimsy.

4.  That there just happened to be brothels everywhere along the path they took on their escape route, doubling as inns.

5.  There are eunuchs! In a place we think might be 17th-18th Century France. Eunuchs! What the fuck?

STRENGTHS:

I think Jessica summed it up best when she said this:

In some ways, despite the sexual sadism of the Duke, this book offers a very positive view of sex. Sex is the go-to coping strategy for most of life’s problems: Need an heir? Feeling stressed? Husband trying to kill you? Lonely? Bored? Want to show someone you have power over them? Need a place to stay for free? Want to escape those thugs? Need a favor? Want to convince someone to ally with you? Want to thank someone? The answer is sex, sex, sex, sex, and more sex.

That was its strength and its purpose. Why? Because it’s erotica. Have I mentioned that?

Okay, so now that we’ve got all that out of the way, here was my problem with what I read:

NIT ONE:

NIT TWO, which is the genuine weakness of the book:

The sexual logical inconsistencies. “What?!?!” you cry. “You just finished telling us it was erotica and don’t get hung up on the ridiculousness of it. What could you possibly mean?” Not that way, you silly goose.

1.  Camille needs an heir or her husband will kill her. Her husband is shooting blanks. She summons the groom to attempt to impregnate her because any child of his could pass for her husband’s. Okay, so far so good. Sounds like a plan. But immediately after finishing with the groom, she is summoned to her husband’s wannabe de Sade dungeon.

[Her husband] had to fuck her at least once, in case she had managed to become pregnant that afternoon.

Okay. We know she doesn’t want to, but we get the timing issue. But then he doesn’t. And not only does she not worry about this, it doesn’t even occur to her that she missed her chance to cover up her possible switcheroo.

2.  Camille’s been married to this dude for 20 years and has been exposed (as a spectator and submissive) to every sexual deviance possible because he’s sick and twisted that way. And yet, this night, the relatively mild antics are … different? And now she’s aroused by them? After 20 years of debauchery? Really? Just now? No, I don’t believe it.

1. She has eunuchs who are her bodyguards and, ostensibly, sexual servants. She has an ivory carving (dildo). In 20 years of exposure and being aroused (for the first time!) that night, she finally—FINALLY!—asks her eunuchs to pleasure her? No, I don’t believe it.
2. In 20 years of exposure and forced sexual obeisance, she’s never given head until this night? (That’s the way I read it, anyway.) No, I don’t believe it.
   

   In other circumstances, she might have enjoyed tasting so large a cock, but not in front of the duke.

   So … has she or has she not experienced pleasure before? Has she or has she not given head? The implication before this passage is that she had (by force), but at this moment thinks about how delicious it might be if her husband wasn’t watching? Say what? No, I don’t believe it.

3. It’s discussed that she was never unfaithful to her husband—in 20 years!—and just that day with the groom was the first time for seeking her pleasure elsewhere and the first time, in fact, that she’d known pleasure at all. No, I don’t believe it.
4. Once the entourage takes to the road, it’s as if everything is a new experience for her, as in, she never knew X activity existed. She becomes lovers with her maid and the author makes a point of letting us know that she hasn’t had a woman. Really? In 20 years of Duke Debauchery and forced sexual obeisance and his own propensity toward voyeurism and she’s never done a woman? No, I don’t believe it.

I think I would have had a problem with Camille’s contradictory sexual history anyway, but I don’t think it would have made me simply put the book down and not want to pick it up again. The unpleasantness surrounding it combined with that simply destroyed any enjoyment I might have had.

Quite simply, it was a chore to read, which frustrated and disappointed me to no end because it was a book I wanted to read and expected to enjoy.

Since this was given to me, I’d like to pass it along. First person to email me gets it.